Before the sun rises, I’m up.

Though I’m all cozy, the next town is waiting, and I want to make sure I get going before sunrise.

The terrain lately has been more difficult than expected; I’m going give myself more time to get there.

I roll up my foam, deflate the air pad, put it in my pack, and...I’m done.

Wow. That was so easy. So little overhead. There is certainly something to this cowboy camping.
Petrified Pig

It’s too cold to do anything else, so I move along; I’ll wait until the sun is completely up and shining to prepare for the day.

This area has an identity crisis; it’s confused as to whether it’s a marsh, a desert, or a forest.

I was motivated the night before, because I wanted to find a camp spot.

Today, however, the ups and downs are less engaging.

In fact, they don’t seem to have any purpose. There are points where it seems like I could just walk along a ridge line, but instead, it’s up and down. I’m going through mountains, but never get to a peak.

The current section is the Arizona highline trail. It’s certainly in the mountain, but it never gets quite high enough.

I can see the peaks. But the trail doesn’t ever go there.
Look at that nice peak we’ll never get to


Every once in a while, you walk along the ridge and see a beautiful view, except it’s the same view.

Not that I’m complaining, but if you’re going to take me down a sharp decline and sharp incline over the course of an hour, just to see the same view, and never hit the peak, we have a problem.

Whoever defined this section of the trail is becoming my least favorite person.

After a while, I give up hope. There’s a peak. But we’re not going there. We’re going to go down and up again for no reason.

But. Soon I will be in a town.

Soon the taste of fresh meat will wash all my frustration away.